


like my father but bolder

by therjolras



Series: we're totally like the mob [4]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical mentions of death and violence and such, Fix-It, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Teen Titans Rebirth, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therjolras/pseuds/therjolras
Summary: Teen Titans Rebirth: Damian doesn't have any friendsMe: okay but how about noor, Damian Wayne's thirteenth birthday, done right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> okay so I finished this like a month ago, had some compunctions about publishing, and today I decided "fuck it, I never wrote the batfam christmas, let's post this instead." consider this my christmas present to all of y'all who have read and been so nice to me, and if you don't celebrate christmas, well... it's for you too.
> 
> this happened after I read Teen Titans Rebirth. Far as I'm concerned it's an A+ comic, the dynamics are great the plot is cool and the art is lovely, but that one comment made me wince. "I don't have friends", DC? Really? just, like, a month later we clarified in Superman that he's still great friends with Maya AND making friends with the new Superboy. anyway, it made me indignant, so I wrote this. pretty much what it says on the tin: Damian's birthday, but with his friends and family. because why the heck not.
> 
> there's more to say, but I think it's more of an afterword, so. enjoy!

Yeah, yeah, sure. Blame Jason. He was just hanging out with Dick at the manor, talking trash about his shorter, grumpier, fellow Dead Dobin, and all of a sudden the words just fall out of his mouth:

“Does he even  _ have  _ anyone to invite to a birthday party?”

And Dick just gives him this  _ look. _ Like a Jason-don’t-go-looking-for-trouble look that Jason should know better than to question, because it’s only ever gotten him into trouble before. But Jason’s an idiot sometimes, so he goes on, “I mean, Timmy’s got what,  _ five  _ teams he’s been on, he’ll have plenty of friends to invite over, and you’re pretty much everyone’s favorite superhero, no problems there, and  _ I’ve _ at least got a team and a half I’ve been on, and Cass surely has a few people she can have over, but what about the brat? Does he even have any friends?”

At that point Dick looks over Jason’s shoulder and grimaces, and Jason turns around and doesn’t flinch at all, because he’s faced more than a disgruntled almost-thirteen-year-old with more trouble. Even if Damian did manage to beat the crap out of him that one time. Jason let that happen.

“In fact, Todd,” Damian says primly, with no signs of violence yet, “I have several friends. I suppose your continued forays into deep space must have brought you behind the times as well as addled your brains, to keep this information from you.”

“Wow, that’s harsh,” Jason says, folding his arms. Damian’s eyebrows go up, which is totally reasonable. They’ve said far, far harsher and far, far stupider to each other before. “Tell you what,” Jason adds. “I bet you that you can’t bring over five friends for a birthday party. Friends meaning they’re not legally related to you. If you lose, we get to hold it over you ‘til next year. If you win... I’ll talk Roy and Kory into letting you come to space with us.”

Damian’s eyebrows twitch. His face is otherwise carefully blank, but Jason recognizes his calculating mood anyway. Dick gives Jason a funny look-- a  _ what-the-heck-do-you-think-you-are-doing _ look-- but Jason knows what the heck he’s doing, so he ignores it. For the moment, he just has to hope that Damian finds space more appealing than not having a birthday party.

“I will accept this wager,” Damian announces after a moment. “For two reasons. Because going to space sounds enjoyable, and because I enjoy proving you wrong.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and smirks at Jason, and Jason has rarely felt prouder.

“Deal,” he says, and sticks out his hand. Damian doesn’t falter in stretching out his own hand and shaking.

“I have until my birthday, yes?” He says. “We should inform Pennyworth.”

===

Damian’s first call is Wilson, whose current position with the Outsiders is undisclosed and means that she will not be available to attend any parties. Meaning Katana will be likewise unavailable. Altogether unfortunate, but Damian ends the call before sulking about it. His displeasure is not worth compromising the Outsiders.

At dinner, among the company of father, Pennyworth, Cassandra, and Timothy, he does not mention this. There is no telling what could travel back to Grayson and Todd. Father does, however, bring up the wager.

“I understand you’ve made a bet with Jason?” He says over the pork roast that Damian has not been pressured into eating. At Damian’s nod he goes on, “That suggests that no-one’s warned you about making bets with Jason.”

“I believe I can handle myself,” Damian says. “Though others may believe likewise.” Timothy snorts.

“Maybe you can handle a  _ fight  _ with Jason,” he says, “But a fight and a wager are not the same thing. And Jason is a dirty cheat.”

“It’s instinctive,” Cassandra adds.

“Good word,” Father tells her, and she smiles, as Timothy adds to Damian,

“We’re not insinuating that you aren’t capable of handling yourself. At least,  I don’t think we are.” He glances at Pennyworth, who shrugs, and then goes on, “Just, don’t listen to anything Jason says between now and your birthday. And… good luck.” He offers Damian a smile, and Damian nods in return. This tenuous peace they’ve established is pleasant, and Damian has known so little of peace that he will guard it faithfully.

===

With only a week until his birthday, Damian decides that every opportunity must be exploited, so he takes a side trip down to the Bowery on patrol with Nightwing and visits St. Agnes through a side door. Colin is not on the premises, so he returns to patrol. 

Twenty minutes later, he drops into a fight between Abuse and a pair of carjackers. The fight is very quickly finished, and Damian greets Abuse. Abuse is a little wary, which is completely understandable. Their friendship up to this point has been limited to the odd patrol and a few cases that brought Damian to this end of the city, and they have been acquainted for quite a while. Still, they are friends. Colin has said so himself, however briefly.

“I was wondering if we might have a word,” Damian says, when they are standing still and there are no obvious threats. “It is not a serious matter, as of now.” Abuse glances around and nods.

“This isn’t a Batman thing, is it?” he says, as they climb to the roof of a convenient warehouse. Damian shakes his head, and then remembers that the gesture may be missed.

“No, it is not a Batman thing,” he says. “It is a… a  _ Damian  _ thing.” he says his name in a whisper,  despite there being no obvious eavesdroppers. Colin  _ hmm _ s acknowledgement. When they arrive on the roof Damian perches on the edge, and Abuse sits down beside him. 

“So,” Abuse says, “What’s up?”

“I have a favor to ask,” Damian says. Then he pauses, and then he gets on with it, because he is not a coward, just (as Brown has repeatedly stated) phenomenally awkward. “My birthday party is this week, and I was hoping you would attend. I have been encouraged to bring my friends,  to the degree that if I exceed a certain number--”

“You’re having a  _ birthday party? _ ” Colin interrupts, then adds, “Sorry. But you’re  _ having a birthday party _ ?”

“Well, yes,” Damian says. “Mostly for a wager, but I suspect it might be fun in some way.” 

Colin pauses, and then he laughs out loud. “Of course. What’s the bet?”

“If I can invite at least five friends, Red Hood will take me to space.”

Colin laughs again. “Alright. I’ll go. Will there be cake?”

“I am told it was traditional,” Damian says. “Do you like cake?”

“Dunno, I haven’t had much,” Colin says. “It sounds pretty good, though. Do I have to dress nice?”

“You may dress as you wish,” Damian says. “You must come as Colin, however. Uniforms are not permitted in the house. I can send someone to pick you up, if you like.”

“Oh, boy,” Colin says. “Yeah, someone can pick me up. But-- how rich are you, really? I mean, Batman’s gotta be  _ loaded,  _ and you just  _ gave  _ me a bike, like it was nothing, so it probably  _ was  _ nothing, and you talk really fancy, so you’ve gotta come from loaded people.”

“My father is one of the richest men in Gotham,” Damian says. “But you must swear to speak of it to no one, if I tell you. His secrets are my secrets, and I must protect them at all costs.”

Abuse falls silent for a moment, and considers the matter. Then, “Deal,” he says. “I’ll keep secrets for some birthday cake.”

“Then we are in agreement,” Damian says. “Shall we resume patrol? Nightwing will be getting concerned.”

“Suuure,” Abuse says. “Let’s go back on patrol. For Nightwing.” He climbs down from the ledge and descends the warehouse wall. Damian fires off a grapple and swings down, which makes Abuse snort.

Nightwing, of course, was not remotely concerned.

Richard does, however, stay at the manor after patrol that night, and insists on driving Damian to school the next morning. He starts talking the moment they step out of the manor and away from Alfred’s watchful eye, and he continues talking, and ‘grilling’ Damian on a variety of subjects including his wager with Jason, his progress at school, and his plans to visit the Teen Titans over the weekend, over the entire twenty-minute drive to Gotham Academy. 

In the loop in front of the main building, Richard idles the car and reaches over to ruffle Damian’s hair. “I trust you not to cause any international incidents today,” he says, “but do me a favor and try to enjoy yourself? I know, you’re two years younger than all your classmates and still feel like you’re stagnating, but find a high point. Find something to enjoy yourself about. Okay?”

Damian clicks his tongue and says, “I will endeavor to enjoy myself. Can I trust you to do likewise?”

Richard smiles. “Of course, Dami. Go on.Take care.”

“Likewise,” Damian says, and gets out of the car. The morning is warm, despite the lateness of the season, and he moves slowly across the commons to enjoy it. Inevitably, Mia Mizoguchi finds him within half a minute. She runs up behind him with the clear intention of bumping their shoulders together, and he allows it, although he does not reciprocate. He does say, “Good morning, Maps,” and listens as she recounts the previous afternoon’s encounter with what she thought was a ghost but turned out to just be Eric stalking her again.

When they approach Damian’s building, Maps trails off. Damian says, “See you at lunch, Maps?” And she grins.

“Sure,” she says. “Bye, Damian!” She jogs back across the common, and Damian goes inside. He is barely on time, and his teacher’s snide acknowledgement of “Gotham Academy’s own child prodigy” is decidedly pointed, but Damian remembers Richard’s trust and keeps his own mouth shut.

Over the lunch hour Damian joins Maps and her other friends, the so-called Detective Club, instead of blowing off some steam on the lawns, but his unease in the matter is quickly qualmed. Aside from a remark from the girl Pomeline about “the gremlin”, they take his presence patiently, and Maps attempts to bridge the gap between him and them with aplomb. Damian elects to test the limits of Pomeline’s sarcasm later, and speaks as cordially as he can manage when he is expected to speak. (He does remark that Mia’s notion regarding ghosts in the school, if not proven concretely, is not foolish. There are too many supernatural presences in Gotham to discount any out of hand.)

After lunch Maps and Damian have a class together, and Damian uses the walk as an excuse to extend his invitation privately. When he says, “ask a favor,” her eyes widen. When he says, “My brother Jason and I have struck a wager,” her eyebrows go up. When he says “birthday party,” she  _ squeaks. _ Upon his concluding, she squeaks again and flaps her hands.

“A  _ party? Your birthday party _ ?” She says. “I would  _ love  _ to. Are there going to be,” she drops her voice,  _ “superheroes? _ ” 

“A few,” Damian says, and Maps squeaks again. “Keep your voice down,” he says. “It is called a  _ secret _ identity.”

“Of course, of course,” Maps says. “I’d love to come. Even if it’s to help you win a bet. Heck, I’ll come  _ just  _ to help you win a bet against your brother who used to be dead. Was--” she drops her voice again-- “Was he really dead?”

“You should ask him yourself,” Damian says. “But later. I’ll work out the arrangements. For now, we have the ridiculous construct that is American History.”

They go to class. After school Damian expects to be picked up by Timothy, as the plan was initially to go to San Francisco together to visit the Teen Titans, but when a recognizable vehicle pulls into the commons it’s not Timothy at the wheel but Father. 

Naturally, Damian’s first reaction is to be concerned. His second is to get into the car and fasten his seat belt before saying, “Father, is Drake alright?”

“He’s perfectly fine, if a little disgruntled,” Father answers, putting the car in gear. “He received an urgent work message just after lunch, and is still there putting out fires. He’s still uncertain as to whether or not he’ll make it to San Francisco this weekend, so I offered to fly you.” The car passes through the Gotham Academy gates as Damian considers this, and a few moments pass before Father adds, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate your concern.”

“That is the appropriate reaction,” Damian says. “I am not… inconveniencing you, am I?”

“Not in any way that I regret,” Father says, and his voice is firm. Damian inhales, and nods.

“Alright,” he says.

Father drives them both back to the manor, and Damian procures his gear for the weekend and reconvenes with Father at the Batwing. The flight to San Francisco is quiet, but it is a comfortable quiet, and when Father lands at Titans Tower Damian does not disembark with a sense of relief at parting with him. 

“See you on Monday, Father,” he says, and Father nods.

“Enjoy yourself, Damian,” he says, and Damian nods in return. Damian waits until the Batwing is in the air to move towards the roof entrance, where Cassandra Sandsmark is waiting for him.

“Got the proximity alert, thought I’d come say hello,” she says, as he approaches her. “Heard about your birthday. Are you thinking about rejoining, now that you’d be a  _ Teen  _ Titan?”

“My responsibilities in Gotham are quite enough for the moment, so no,” Damian replies, slowing to a halt and inclining his head toward her briefly. He adds, feigning an afterthought, “and I’m sure you’ll all be quite relieved at the news.”

Sandsmark’s polite smile cracks into a grin and a short bark of a laugh, but she restrains herself from further merriment at Damian’s expense. “I am a little relieved,” she says, “But not because I don’t like you. You just make people nervous, is all. But if you’re not reconsidering joining, why the visit? If I may ask.”

“I wanted to visit,” Damian replies. “I have friends on the roster still. And your missions are…” he trails off. Sandsmark’s smile crinkles the corners of her eyes.

“Fun?” She offers.

“Yes,” Damian says. “Fun. Enjoyable. I can procure a thesaurus, if you like, to further elaborate.” Sandsmark chuckles.

“Maybe later,” she says. “I think Maya’s in the gym, if you’d like to go say hi?”

“I would, thank you,” Damian says, and pulls open the roof-access door. “And-- thank you, again, for giving her a place on this team. It is not what I need, yet, but I believe she has benefited from it greatly.”

“We’re glad to have her, Damian,” Sandsmark says, entering before him and waiting as he pulls the door closed again. “And I can’t speak for the whole team, but I don’t hate having you around.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Damian says, and she laughs as she summons the elevator. Damian takes the stairs.

He has been friends with Maya Ducard for almost a year, perhaps more, and she has given him more than a lion’s share of hope-- for himself, and for others. His friendship with her, in fact, gives him a facet of understanding in regards to the relationships between Richard and Jason and Timothy and himself-- while none of them are related by blood, it seems that blood is irrelevant. Unless it is shed by either party, which makes a particularly awkward situation.

Damian brought her back to Gotham after his so-called “Grand Redemption World Tour”, and offered her his home; Alfred had quipped about the apple not falling far from the tree, and Richard and Timothy and Jason and Cassandra had teased, and Father was his usual sincere-but-awkward self, but they were all kind. When Maya broke the news that she didn’t want to stay in Gotham, Father and Richard and Timothy all offered to vouch for her with the Teen Titans. Damian for his part has fought not to resent her for leaving, and instead focuses on his pride in her accomplishments, the name she has made for herself as a hero. He wonders if his Father feels something similar for him.

When Damian arrives in the gym, Maya is in civilian garb doing pull-ups. Damian pauses at the door and waits; even silent, it should not take her long to notice his presence. Sure enough, within moments she drops from the pull-up bar and dashes across the room to wrap her arms around his shoulders in a hug. They are of a height with each other now, Maya growing slowly and Damian shooting up by leaps and bounds, and when he returns her hug he must duck his head to rest it on her shoulder.

“It’s good to see you,” she murmurs. “Tim told me you were coming to visit. I was so excited.”

“Me as well,” Damian says. “I have missed your company.”

Maya chuckles. “To think I was relieved to not be sharing a Goliath with you anymore, huh? You know I have my own room here? It’s got a view of the bay and everything.”

“That’s… pretty cool,” Damian says, and she laughs.

Timothy does not arrive at Titans Tower in time to go fight evil robots, but he does fly in on Sunday afternoon and he, along with Superboy and Kid Flash, lay raucous claim to the gaming system for several hours. They make a spectacle of it, too, laughing, jostling, and occasionally swearing, and Damian does not watch  _ them, _ per se, but he does watch the newer Titans’ reactions to them-- they are legends in their own right, but here they are sitting in ratty civilian clothes threatening excommunication from the team over Mario Kart. Timothy is wearing a domino mask (one of Damian’s) in compliance with Father’s rules, of course, but it has pizza sauce on one corner. 

Maya joins Damian at the bar as Timothy and Kon-El hoot in unison and Allen howls in indignation. She too is in civilian clothing (unlike Damian) but it does not change his perception of her. She simply Is.

“So I hear you’ve got a bet going on,” she says, looking towards the television. Damian hums affirmation, and she nods. “Is there any chance you’re going to drag me into it?” she asks. Damian hums again.

“I wanted to phrase it better,” he says. “In fact, I would have invited you sooner, but the situation changed. We were fighting robots.”

“Yes, we were,” Maya says. “So?”

“So what?”

“Are you going to ask me?”

Damian opens his mouth to say that this is pointless, because she is already aware that he would like her to attend and the statement would be redundant, but then he stops. 

“I know you don’t like Gotham,” he says. “But-- Maya, will you come to my birthday party? Not even for a bet, but to visit, for me?” She smiles in reply, and her eyes crinkle almost shut.

“Of course, little brother,” she says, and wraps an arm around his shoulder as Timothy swears in Cantonese and his avatar dies on-screen. “So, who else have you dragged into it?”

“Just two of my friends in Gotham, so far,” Damian says. “One of my school acquaintances, Mia, or Maps, and a fellow vigilante-- Colin. He goes by ‘Abuse’.”

“Classic,” Maya says, with a snort. “Who else are you thinking about inviting?”

“Duke Thomas,” Damian says. “One of those who took up the Robin mantle when I was… indisposed.” Maya snorts again. “And also possibly Jon Kent.”

“The boy who kicked your butt?” Maya says, grinning. That story is a closely guarded secret between Maya, Damian, Jon, Father, and Superman, and Damian is still unsure of the ending, so he just shrugs.

“He likes Bat-Cow,” he reasons. “And I misjudged him.”

“Fair,” Maya says. Then Sandsmark joins the party and unseats the three so-called champions in under three minutes, and dinner arrives, so the conversation is left there. 

===

On Monday night, Damian is set to patrol with Father, but it takes little effort to persuade Timothy to switch places with him so Damian can patrol with Duke Thomas. The older boy has been working a great deal with Luke Fox, who offered him a day job immediately following his emancipation. According to Duke, the success rate of the endeavor rests at about sixty-five percent. The remaining forty-five percent is reserved for the evenings when Duke calls Damian to rant about “dropped out of high school, ain’t got time for this”, and “damn rich kids think they own the world”, and “the hell kind of a name is Batwing anyway”.

When Damian offered to patrol with Duke, Duke said “Hell yes.”

They take the cycles, because Duke’s experience with the grapples is minimal at best; in the sky above them, Batman and Red Robin and Batgirl and Black Bat soar past at intervals. Red Hood whizzes past them at an intersection with barely a salute. Between such encounters there are gratuitous amounts of violence against random passerby criminals, much swearing on Duke’s account, and occasional laughter on Oracle’s part. They also stop two carjackings and an armed robbery and take part in a high-speed chase, which leaves both of them jittery and depraved of good sense for nearly twenty minutes. They use those twenty minutes to procure ice-cream from a convenient McDonald’s (which Duke reports once caught on fire) and then take said ice-cream to the roof of said McDonald’s to eat it.

About halfway through his ice-cream Duke pauses and says, “So, why’d you ask to patrol with me? That ain’t usually your thing.”

“You are correct,” Damian says, scrubbing ice-cream from the corner of his mouth. “I wanted to extend an invitation to you in-person, without the possibility of interruptions.  That being said, I do enjoy patrolling with you and would do it again even without the need to extend an invitation.”

“Take a breath,”  Duke says, in the voice that suggests his amusement without actually expressing amusement. “That’s cool, Robin. I appreciate it. So what’s the invitation?”

“I have made a wager with Red Hood,” Damian says. “If I can bring five friends-- not legally related to me-- to a birthday party, he will take me to space. Point being, I would like to invite you to attend. I am not sure of all that a ‘birthday party’ will entail, but Pennyworth is cooking, and that is usually pleasant.”

“It’s your birthday?” Duke says, chomping on his ice-cream cone. Damian hums acknowledgement. “And we’re friends now?” Duke adds.

Damian clicks his tongue. “Of course we are. It’s the only reason you even survived being Robin.”

“Hey, that wasn’t official. That was me getting roped in with a bunch of other crazy kids to protect the city in your honor. Never wore the cape, never saved the day.”

“Father acknowledged you as Robin,” Damian remarks. “He has said that you did an admirable job given your circumstances, and he is glad you’ve… stuck around.”

“That’s nice of him,” Duke says. Then, “I’ll come to your birthday party. But only because Alfred’s cooking, and because you told me up front it was for a bet.”

“Thank you,” Damian says. “I look forward to you being there. Your residence at Wayne Manor, however short, brought with it a modicum of common sense that I have missed.”

“Says the guy in the yellow cape.”

Damian refrains from throwing his ice-cream cone at Duke.

===

The next morning Damian goes to Pennyworth with his contribution to the guest list as it stands. He waits until Pennyworth is sitting down at the kitchen table, busy with ledgers and lists and the odd phone call, with a cup of tea at his right elbow; Damian prepares a cup of tea for himself before taking the opposite seat. Pennyworth hums in greeting, finishing a note in the neat, looping cursive that always takes Damian an extra moment to translate, and then he says “something on your mind, Master Damian?”

“If you have a moment,” Damian says carefully, “I was hoping to speak to you regarding the, ah, birthday party.”

“Do I hear some apprehension?” Alfred says, writing down something else. “I am certain we can find an alternative means of space travel if this endeavor makes you uncomfortable.”

“I have done far more uncomfortable things,” Damian says, sipping his tea. He has not allowed it adequate time to cool. He takes another sip. “And I am not uncomfortable. Merely uncertain. I have been informed that the best strategy for uprooting unpleasant memories is to create newer, pleasant memories, but I…” he breaks off and shrugs. Pennyworth nods, though, seemingly having put the pieces together without Damian’s assistance. 

“You do not know what to expect, and it makes you uneasy,” he says matter-of-factly, “much like your father, in fact. I can assure you, however, that you will  _ not  _ be forced to duel to prove your worth, and that anyone who attends tomorrow will already have a very high opinion of you. Tomorrow is not about proving your value, but celebrating it.” He sets down his pen and takes a drink. Damian takes a deep breath.

“Thank you, Pennyworth,” he says. Pennyworth smiles into his teacup.

“You’re most welcome, Master Damian,” he says. “Now, shall we discuss your special-guest list?”

===

Damian calls the Kents that afternoon, over the phone, and Lois answers. He has yet to find a tactful way to ask which last name she prefers day-to-day-- she is Kent by marriage, but continues to use Lane on all her printed work-- so he refers to her as “ma’am” and inquires after Jon. Lois makes a noise that sounds regretful.

“He’s working with Clark and the other boys this week,” she says. “Space stuff, Chris said. I’m sorry, Damian, I’m sure he’ll be disappointed that he missed it.”

“It’s alright,” Damian says, trying to mask his disappointment. “Perhaps he could call when he returns?”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Lois says. “Happy birthday, Damian.”

“Thank you,” Damian says. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” she says, her tone turning amused for just a moment. Damian hangs up first, and sets the phone down on the kitchen table. This isn’t loss, he knows. He has other options, options that don’t even have the potential to blow up the dining room by accident. But Jon was the last of his peers to be considered, and aside from Colin he is the only friend Damian has close to his own age. In many ways, Damian suspects their friendship mirrors that of their fathers’; Jon providing a lightheartedness Damian has yet to fully fathom, Damian for his part providing common sense. Richard would probably insist that Father’s relationship with Superman is deeper than that, but Damian has eyes. And ears, for that matter, and access to the files of previous missions with Superman. Moving the Earth out of the way, honestly.

He considers checking the guest list again, just to be sure, but before he can make any actions either way Timothy darts into the kitchen with Cassandra hot on his heels. Neither of them speak, but Cassandra has a tiny smile on her face; both of them tear through the kitchen and the mud room within seconds and the back door slams behind them. A moment later Jason slides past the kitchen door, loses his footing and catches himself on the doorframe, hauls himself to his feet, and enters the kitchen.

“Which way did they go?” He says. Damian points at the mudroom door. Jason takes a few loping steps into the kitchen and pauses by the table, looking down at Damian’s phone. “How’s it coming?” He asks. 

“I suppose you’ll find out,” Damian says, picking up his phone and pocketing it. Jason rolls his eyes and reaches out to make some gesture of affection before second-guessing himself and glancing up from the table to meet Damian’s eyes. Damian clicks his tongue and says, “Go ahead.”

Jason smiles and reaches across the table to ruffle Damian’s hair before exiting out the mudroom. The back door shuts with a soft thump a moment later.

===

Before long Pennyworth summons them all to assist in preparations for the birthday party, and after that Father summons Damian for patrol, and a chain of robberies-- perfectly coordinated, right after the other-- keeps the entire family busy until after dawn. When Father and Damian (and Richard) finally return to the manor, Damian remains awake just long enough to shower and have a few small lacerations tended to before he goes to bed and sleeps until just after lunchtime.

When he wakes, it is to Richard and Titus throwing themselves over the foot of his bed. Damian has become acquainted with this behavior over weeks and months and it no longer causes him to grope for the nearest weapon, but he still kicks at Richard irritably as he shakes off sleep. Titus is a silly creature who likely followed Richard’s lead, so Damian sits up and scratches the dog behind the ears in greeting.

“So, Alfred sent me,” Richard says, rolling onto his back and scratching under Titus’s chin. “He says you need to come downstairs, get some breakfast, and blow off some steam before the party starts at four. Also your sutures need to be checked on.”

Damian clicks his tongue and kicks his blankets off. “You may inform Pennyworth that I am awake and will be downstairs shortly. Good morning, Richard.”

“Good morning, Dami,” Richard replies. “Happy birthday.” He pats Damian’s knee, which is the nearest convenient place for such a gesture, and gets up, whistling for Titus. Titus bounds off the bed, following Richard out; the door closes behind them. Twenty minutes later Damian follows them downstairs, having done his exercises and dressed.

The manor is still, in a manner Damian has learned to associate with long nights and not with emptiness. Richard sleeps lightly and it is unsurprising that he has already woken; Father’s habits dictate that in the wake of a completed case he will sleep deeply and it is unlikely he will wake for an hour or two yet. Alfred had only just risen when they returned home this morning and has already been on his feet for hours.

When he arrives in the kitchen he finds Father already up, sipping coffee at the kitchen table. Next to him is Timothy, who is also sipping coffee, but who is slumped across the table wrapped around the mug like he wishes to hug it. Both of them look up when Damian enters, and Timothy gives a half-hearted wave and a mumble of “happy birthday.”

“Good morning, Damian,” Father says. “Alfred’s gone to pick up Steph and Cass, but he left your breakfast in the refrigerator.” He takes a drink of coffee and then adds, “There’s tea in the pot.”

“Thank you, Father,” Damian says, and then adds to Timothy, “You did not drive yourself, I hope.”

“Didn’t know you cared,” Timothy says, with a twist of his mouth that suggests he’s making a joke. “Dick picked me up earlier. Said he didn’t trust me to be on time otherwise.”

“You have my sympathies,” Damian says, helping himself to the tea and procuring the rest of his breakfast from the refrigerator. Timothy for his part snorts and goes back to his coffee. Damian sits across from him and eats his breakfast, and when he has finished he goes downstairs. As the time nears four PM the proximity alert beeps again and again, alerting the arrival of guests; Damian works on the weights until his muscles ache and his chest is tight and then he goes upstairs to wash his face and dress appropriately for the occasion.

At exactly four PM Damian takes a deep breath and walks into the dining room. Bunting is hung from the chandeliers; the table is dressed and set, and at the near head Damian knows a cake will be set. Between that inevitable cake and his line of sight, however, is the crowd of people he knew to expect, and when he enters the room they all shout, 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Despite the fact that he has heard it plenty of times already. Father steps forward and shows Damian empty hands and a wide smile before laying his hand on Damian’s shoulder, guiding him further into the room. Colin is present, and someone has combed his hair. Maya is present, and she does not hesitate to push past Father and hug Damian. Duke is present, standing by the table with Luke Fox, who is conversing with Gordon; Mia Mizoguchi is by Luke’s elbow, hanging onto every word. Jason is present, with his hoodlum (ha) friends Harper and Starfire. Timothy and Cassandra are conversing with Kon-El, whom Damian suspects is present as Maya’s ‘ride’. Richard is here. Stephanie--

“Didn’t keep anyone waiting, did I?” Stephanie says, standing at Damian’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like it. Sorry I’m late, Damian, traffic was awful.” Damian looks up at her. There’s a scrape across her cheek that doesn’t look like it was acquired sitting in gridlock.

“Of course,” he says. “Thank you for coming.” She grins.

“My pleasure,” she says.

“Okay, Tater Tot, let’s get this over with before I forget and disappoint everyone,” Jason interrupts, walking around the table and stopping by Father’s shoulder. “You’ve only invited four friends. The end.”

“By whose count?” Damian retorts, folding his arms. Jason tilts his head, then turns to look around the room.

“I count Little Ginger, School Pal, Fellow Assassin Child, and Not-Quite-A-Replacement,” he says. “Four.”

“Undead Predecessor, not legally related,” Damian says, jerking his head at Stephanie. “Five.”

“I’m touched,” Stephanie says. “He’s right, two-point-oh.” She ruffles Damian’s hair, a gesture he translates as comeuppance. Jason sighs. And grins.

“So, space with the Fledgeling?” Roy Harper says from across the room. “On a technicality?”

“So it seems,” Damian says, electing to not be smug until later. “Now can we proceed?”

“Yes, please, let’s soothe my embarrassing loss with cake,” Jason says, and there’s a small chorus of laughter. Pennyworth makes a dignified exit to the kitchen; Father skirts Jason and Maya and makes his way back to the table, where he retrieves a glass of wine Damian wasn’t aware was on the menu.

“I won’t subject you to singing, Damian,” he says, “But I will call a toast. Since you joined us your birthday has been a complicated beast to tackle: first not knowing of its existence, then Dick learning of your own birthday traditions in a rather awkward manner--”

“I survived,” Dick remarks. “It was a weird day, though.” 

“--not to mention not thinking you would celebrate your twelfth birthday at all,” Father says, and has to pause and clear his throat before going on. “When it happened, I’ll admit I was worried, as you declared your intentions of celebrating by leaving for several months. But despite your absence, and the worries your various… exploits caused me, the end result could not have made me prouder. Your year of redemption proved in you the utmost strength of character, and proved to me and to all of us that you are undoubtedly your father’s son-- in more ways than one.”

“He means he’s sorry, Maya,” Gordon remarks, and laughter erupts again. Maya grins, first at nothing and then directly at Damian.

“I am not sorry,” she says.

“Fair enough,” Father says, with a grin. “Anyway. Damian, beginning your thirteenth year among those you deem your friends, not to mention your family-- who has gone through so much to get to this point--”

“Hear, hear,” Jason says--

“I can only deem a good omen,” Father says. “And whatever this year has in store for you, today I could not be prouder. To Damian Wayne.” He lifts his glass. “To thirteen years of age, and many happy returns of the day.”

“Hear hear,” the others chorus, and there is a clinking of glasses, and they drink. Maya tips her glass of punch to her lips and smiles at Damian with just her eyes. Pennyworth enters the room again bearing the fateful cake, lit with thirteen candles. Damian steps forward; Pennyworth sets the cake on the table and steps back, and Damian inhales and blows every candle out in one breath. More cheering follows. Pennyworth steps in to oversee the serving, and Damian steps back, and Duke Thomas brings him a glass of punch.

“That was quite the speech,” he says. Damian hums agreement and sips his punch and says, 

“Thank you for coming.”

Duke grins. “Hey, man, I don’t regret moving out, but Alfred’s cooking is-- well. Pretty great.”

“You were going to say ‘to die for’, weren’t you,” Maya says, standing at Damian’s shoulder. Duke shrugs, and takes a drink of punch. Maps joins them and stands at Damian’s other shoulder, and somehow she is still of a height with him. She gives him a somber look, eyebrows pinched, and Damian knows what she is thinking without her having to say it. He shrugs.

“It was before we met,” he says. “And it did not last long. I do not like to think of it, but I am told that is reasonable.”

“Yuh-yeah, pretty reasonable,” Maps says. “But-- sorry. That it happened. Does that make two of you?” She glances across the room at Jason, who appears to have stolen Gordon’s wine.

“Three,” Stephanie says, joining them and handing Damian a plate of cake. “I was only actually dead for, like, twenty minutes, but it still counts because I got a gravestone and everything.” Maps looks up at her with an expression of awe that is almost laughable, until Damian remembers a little belatedly that she is a civilian, not at all familiar with the ups and downs of the life they lead.

Colin makes a timely interruption by stepping into the knot next to Duke and declaring, “Damian, your house is  _ huge. _ What do you guys even do with all this space?” Without waiting for an answer, he takes a bite of cake and seems to relish it. Maya answers, grinning, 

“Take in orphans and train them in the ways of crimefighting. Also occasionally tease Jason into chasing people and laugh when he misses sharp turns.”

Colin nods like this makes perfect sense and takes another small bite of cake. Duke shakes his head and says, “I’m glad I moved out. The people here are crazy. Don’t let the square footage and incredible food trick you, kid-- they’re absolutely off their rockers.” Colin nods again. Duke takes a bite of cake, swallows, and says, “The cooking’s still pretty great.”

“If food were the controlling factor in society, Condiment King would be the most powerful person in Gotham,” Stephanie says. “Thankfully it’s not. Usually.” She takes a bite of cake and makes a pleased noise, and Colin hums agreement.

“So, Damian,” Maps says. “Got any big plans to shape the world this year?”

Damian shrugs and says, mouth full of cake, “I have a few ideas.”

**Author's Note:**

> SO, this is the fic where I get really handwavey about the timeline, and it probably shows. I kinda pick-and-chose the elements of new-52/rebirth timeline I wanted and declared To Hell With The Rest, so Damian died at some point and We Are Robin happened when he was dead and R:SOB happened sometime after that, because that sounds fun. also a cooler version of RHATO happened because that was a cool teamup if a sucky comic. also I decided that Rose Wilson/Ravager would totally join the Outsiders once she graduated the Titans, or something like that, so that's why that's there. and I gave Duke a future that didn't involve Batman mcGrimdark going all "batman doesn't need a roibin" or whatever because that was frankly insulting. Also I don't really know how Jon got into this but he's Damian's friend (sort of) in canon and I like him so I tried to integrate him a little. he'll probably show up properly once I've figured him out.
> 
> In case you're wondering, Harper Row-slash-Bluebird will probably show up at some point, because she's cool.
> 
> if you like, come say hi on my tumblr @captainpeggys because that would be cool. and remember to comment and stuff because I love to hear what you people think! thanks so much for reading, see y'all on the flip side.


End file.
